Drunken Mother

All night a tantrum in the clouds brewed.
In your boozy frenzy, messages flew
through the highway. Violent beeps
sent me leaping from my warm bed,
where anxiety pounded until another
arrow lodged. You do hurting well.
This morning shrapnel has fused with
my organs, only dead pieces now.
Fresh coffee steam warms my swollen lip.
A sniffle, mucus-heavy, begins the long
journey back to before these latest suicide bombs.
More sodden pillows, memories scribbled out
in pain's ink. My heart only jerks today with
tugs of a rancid umbilical cord, ready to snap.